


A Lifetime Burning in Every Moment

by Ignaz Wisdom (ignaz)



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, ds seekrit santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignaz/pseuds/Ignaz%20Wisdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The next time Ray flew up to the Northwest Territories, he decided to ride on the <strong>inside</strong> of the plane.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lifetime Burning in Every Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Pinch hit for the 2007 Due South Seekrit Santa, with thanks to sisterofdream for beta reading, providing a title (from Eliot, natch), and being an awesome late-night cheerleader.

The next time Ray flew up to the Northwest Territories, he decided to ride on the _inside_ of the plane. Sure, it wasn't very Fraser-like, but then Fraser wasn't there to trash his style, because Fraser was on the ground at Fort Good Hope, red-cheeked and open-armed and smiling, bundled in layer upon layer of clothes which Ray started peeling off him like the skins of an onion the minute they were behind closed cabin doors.

Four weeks. That was how long it took for him to get back to Chicago, wrap up the open cases on his desk, pack up or throw out all the crap in his apartment, find a new home for the turtle, and say his goodbyes. Four weeks was a hell of a long time to go without touching Fraser, without looking at him, without mapping the new terrain of Fraser's body with his own hands, without falling asleep in Fraser's arms -- and Ray had felt every minute of it, like a chunk of him was missing. This thing between them wasn't new, but being able to act on it was, and four weeks in Chicago without Fraser had been like losing a limb.

That doesn't matter, though, because Ray's back now, and Fraser's been waiting for him. Maybe even missing him as much as Ray missed Fraser, if the urgent way he kisses Ray and strips him of his clothes is anything to go by, or the way Fraser half drags him from the doorway of the cabin to the bed.

It's fast and kind of frantic, like the first time, when they were fresh from capturing Bolt and his men, and Muldoon was locked up in a cell for good; when there was nothing left to do but set up camp for the night (because God forbid Fraser actually stay indoors with the other Mounties, let alone in the comfy private hotel room they more than deserved) and think about what was going to happen next. Ray wasn't an idiot: he knew Fraser wasn't coming back to Chicago. Fraser had options now, and while he might have turned down a transfer to Ottawa to keep working with Ray, this wasn't Ottawa. This was home for Fraser, he'd said so himself. No way could Ray compete with that.

So after they were in their tent and before Fraser declared lights out, Ray turned to him and said, "Hey, about Chicago," and that was as far as he got before Fraser's hand was around his wrist, holding him still and whispering, "Stay, please, Ray -- just for a little while, _stay_" which was all he needed to hear before they were wrapped up together, Fraser tumbling him backwards onto the ground and kissing him like he might never stop.

Fraser even said it was okay for them to get naked as long as they stayed in the zipped-together sleeping bags. Something about sharing body heat to ward off hypothermia. Ray figured Fraser was yanking his chain, but who was he to argue with that kind of thinking?

He'd always been an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" kind of guy anyway.

But now they know each other, sight and smell and sound and touch, and Fraser's hands on him are as smooth and confident as anything else Fraser does up north. Climbing mountains, building fires, fashioning hammocks, making Ray come his brains out – Ray always knew Fraser was a talented guy, but up here his hands work like a magician's. They slide Ray's shirt over his head and slip under the waistband of Ray's pants at the back, squeezing his ass before gliding around to take hold of his cock, which has been waiting patiently for this for a month now and leaps to attention at the touch of Fraser's fingers.

Ray's hands aren't quite so skillful, especially when Fraser's got his fist around Ray's dick, so he fumbles with Fraser's clothes, pawing at them until Fraser starts helping. They make short work of it then, and Ray notes with a smirk that Fraser definitely must have missed this as much as Ray did because Fraser's just dropping his clothes all over the place, pants on the floor, shirt on a chair, shoes kicked to opposite sides of the little room, like he can't afford to take the three seconds to make sure everything's in its place because touching Ray is too important. Ray likes that – likes it a lot – so he decides to show his appreciation by sitting right down on the edge of the bed with Fraser still standing in front of him. He pulls at Fraser's starched white boxers, tugging them down and away, careful not to snag Fraser's dick with the waistband. He gets them down around Fraser's knees and then Fraser's cock is right in front of him, bobbing just out of reach, hard and already shiny at the tip. Fraser puts his hands on Ray's shoulders and says his name, reverently, and then Ray puts a hand around Fraser's cock and opens his mouth.

He closes his eyes and moans at the first taste of bitter precome. God, it's been four weeks, four long fucking weeks, and Ray has missed this more than he could let on without probably embarrassing himself. He has to reach down and grab his own dick to cool himself down, because the last thing he needs is to shoot his load before he even gets to feel Fraser really touch him, stroke him with intent. He focuses on sucking, on the hard length in his mouth and on making Fraser feel good, because if the four weeks was bad for him, it had to be hell on Fraser, who probably spent the whole time wondering if Ray was going to chicken out and not come back. He knew Fraser had been worried about it; he'd seen it in Fraser's eyes before he got on the plane to Chicago, even as Ray was gripping him by the shoulders and promising that he'd be back as fast as he could. Ray has a hunch that Fraser isn't used to getting what he wants.

He's gonna get it now, that's for damn sure. Ray slides his mouth as far down the length of Fraser's cock as he can go without choking, lips touching the fingers he had around the base, then slides back again, sucking hard. Above him, Fraser moans, and then says "Ray" again, like he's in shock. "God," Fraser says, and that feels good, that feels really fucking great, being able to drag sounds like that out of Fraser. Fraser talks a lot but it's always deliberate, always on purpose, but this isn't like that – this is Fraser talking because he can't help himself, because Ray's sucking him off and taking away his control. His composure. Fraser is losing it, losing it – and then his hands tighten on Ray's shoulders and he grunts and that's it, that's all she wrote; Fraser's cock swells and stiffens and he's spilling into Ray's mouth.

Ray pulls his mouth away as soon as he knows Fraser's done, because Fraser gets real sensitive afterward, so much that it almost hurts him just to be touched. Fraser slumps onto the bed next to Ray and then flops onto his back, naked and shiny with sweat and Ray's spit.

"Hi," Ray says, then he clears his throat because it came out sounding pretty hoarse. "Ya miss me?"

Fraser stares dazedly at him and grins, and Ray's heart nearly skips a beat, because it's been four weeks but he's pretty sure that's the same grin Fraser wore when he looked around at the frozen middle-of-nowhere and declared that he was home.

"Very much so," Fraser says, his face flushed and his voice solemn.

Ray flops down next to him, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at Fraser's face. He's still hard, but he happens to know that there's a bottle of lube in the drawer next to Fraser's bed and they've got the rest of the night – the rest of their lives, even. He can afford to wait.

"So I've been thinking," Ray says. Fraser raises an eyebrow and he continues, "This is your home, right? And I haven't really seen much of it yet. Not the right way, anyway. I've seen it the crazy, under-supplied, hypothermia, let's-catch-some-bad-guys way."

"Indeed," Fraser answers him, one hand stroking Ray's arm.

"Most of which I don't even remember because I'm pretty sure I was dying the whole time. But if I'm gonna live here, I should see it the right way, right? Your way. The way that doesn't involve me swinging in a hammock on the side of a cliff and wearing pants on my head."

"You were quite fetching," Fraser says, pulling Ray's face down to his and kissing him hotly.

"Yeah," Ray says a few minutes later, "but listen, okay? I want to look at it like you do. What did we say when we were stuck in that ice crevice or Canadian death trap or whatever it was?"

"About ABBA?"

"About Franklin, you dope. The hand of Franklin. An adventure."

"I had no idea you were serious, Ray."

"Hey, I'm serious! I'm so serious I just quit my job to move to Canada with a Mountie -- and Fraser, Canada scares the crap out of me." He rolled on top of Fraser, an arm on either side of him, and looked down. "Canada tried to kill me, Fraser. You gotta teach me how to handle it. How to live here. With you. And not just in a cabin, neither, because if you're gonna be out there I need to know how to do it, too."

Fraser stares at him, and he looks kind of scared but he nods anyway. "It won't be easy," he warns.

"No shit. I know that. I'm here, aren't I?" He squints. "You weren't really expecting to keep me locked up in a cabin for the rest of my life, were you?"

"No, of course not, Ray. I just--" Fraser looks away for a moment, and when he turns back, there's something in his expression that makes Ray feel just ridiculously warm. "I had no expectation that you would _want_ to see my home."

"Hey," Ray says, knocking Fraser gently in the shoulder, "of course I do, you doofus. It's where you came from. Well, that or Mars, anyway, and you can show me that next."

Fraser smiles. It's not the same smile he had after falling out of that airplane, that show-stopping grin as he looked around and said _I'm home_.

That smile pales next to the one Fraser's wearing now.

"It would be my pleasure, Ray," he says.


End file.
